A Labour of Love

Labour of Love

By Simon Buckley

The Bisto advert used to feature two cartoon kids, merrily wandering along. Then a waft of gravy would drift through the air and up their nostrils, and they’d be enticed away from their intended journey on a quest to discover the source of the amazing aroma. Ideas can arrive like that. When just 21, and idly digging in my dad’s garden, the thought “go to China” randomly drifted into my head. This “Bisto” moment defined my adult life. It brought me a Chinese wife, three feisty daughters and the ability to know when I was being insulted in Cantonese. Now 45, re-married and a grandfather, it seems that last September, I may have had another “Bisto” moment, this time in the vegetable aisle of my local supermarket.

It was as if, whilst I groped the tomatoes, Ed Milliband himself had sneaked up and sprayed me with magic scent. I went straight home and, for the first time in my life, joined the Labour Party. My membership duly arrived, flimsy as a coffee shop loyalty card and, within weeks, I’d had an apparently innocent interchange with a local party official, asking if I’d like to get more involved. Now, 9 months later, I’m readying myself for a period of hard labour that will change my life forever. I’ve decided to apply to stand as a candidate in next year’s local elections.

My wife thinks I’m mad. She’s used to me wearing slightly flamboyant shoes and can’t imagine how having the word councillor before my name fits my personality. She might be right. I do wonder how I’ll ever be able to find any fun in learning all the acronyms, such as LGC or CLP. I’m also worried that, coming from a career in photography and women’s fashion, I’ll never be able to grasp the intricacies of housing policy, potholes and local government finance. And then there’s the politics. I’ve been self-employed all my working life, and from my brief time with the party, it’s felt like a gust of wind from a blocked drain whenever I’ve noticed petty procedures getting in the way of decisions being quickly made.

At least I’ve got experience from helping on the last local election campaign to draw on. Our team contacted over 3500 people, and so we saw the real effect of the government’s insidious policies. I’m reminded of the quote “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” And so , rather than stay at home, impotently shouting at the news each night, I suppose that I’d much rather hold my nose and jump right in. Which is what I’m about to do.

We all know that it’s a time of challenge and change for the Labour Party, and the country may well be entering a period of turmoil not seen for decades. Although the timing of my application, therefore, raises questions about my sanity, it also offers the opportunity to follow the process of becoming an elected official in these turbulent times, through the eyes of someone new to politics. I’ve been inspired to serve simply through being appalled by Cameron and Clegg’s dance of doom.

There are, of course, no guarantees that I’ll get over the first hurdle, in which case this will be my first and last column. If, however, I somehow sneak under the fence and get selected as a candidate, then I’m going to share with you the experience of campaigning for Labour at a local level. I’ve no idea what the impact will be on my own life, or that of my family. There will be friendships to be made and enemies to be confronted. I’ll become an expert in the latest streetlight technology, and no doubt, I’ll have to learn when to bite my tongue. Sending off my application could be like releasing the ball bearing in the 1970s game, Mousetrap, and it’s impossible to predict the consequences. But I’m going to do it anyway because, when the aroma of adventure gets up my nose, there’s no stopping me. I’m off to find the gravy…